Jujube/thesis-drafts
why I write
1.
My mom finally mailed me a box of stuff, which she picked from what I had mailed to her from the US the year before. She said she couldn't include the knives because the government banned the mailing of all sharp objects. My immersion blender didn't make it, either.
My mom sent the box from China. I knew she packed it because I found two plastic bags with the Chinese label "Bei Yi Department Store." She worked there for more than twenty years before retiring at the age of fifty. I recognized my dad's handwriting on the mailing label. In the field for "detailed description of contents," he write — in their Chinese characters and then following the same squarish strokes the English letters — "Clothes" and "Books". He declared their worth 1500 USD.
Inside the box I found Letters to A Young Poet, The Book of Questions, a pink cookbook named Mexico, the National Geographic hiking map of Jasper National Park in Canada. I found a grocery bag I got on the beach of Oaxaca and two shirts from a slightly touristy shop in Chiapas.
I suppose my dad understood the value of these things to me by putting down a number ten times higher than the material cost.
I ordered Letters to a Young Poet from Amazon the day after my architecture advisor told me to read it. "My dad wanted me to be a lawyer," he said, "as an English major, I thought architect would be the middle ground." We were having a conversation about future. I remember him saying: the present things are clear while the past trickles away. Trickles, tinkles, twinkles, he must have said one of those words. I remember he pressed his fingers together and made a gesture towards something far. I remember agreeing with the revelation. I still remember those who instilled some sort of revelation in that young mind of mine. There were three John's, a Jeff, a Guntram and an Anne.
words from Rilke
I found solace in solitude that year. I wrote — had been writing — because I depend on it. I wrote, but I couldn't say I was a writer, because everything felt too close and too private. For years I'd only shared my writing in one of these forms: enigmatic poetry, aloof witness, and sarcasm.
There was a distance between me and me, and therefore, there was a distance between me and the world.
2.
"Being here is a demarcation of time," I wrote that in September, 2018.
I wanted to make a speech about the physical and internal turmoil, some of which I endured and some of which I inflicted on myself. But I didn't. Instead I showed some works from the past. The first website I made, the last website I made. A series of photos. A snapshot of a play script.
...
key texts
feelings
- Jujube/synopsis#United_by_Feelings
- Jujube/synopsis#Feelings.2C_Emotion.2C_Affect
- Jujube/synopsis#David_S._Miall:_Emotions_and_the_Structuring_of_Narrative_Responses
I want to evoke feelings. I believe it is shared human nature and thus a way to foster empathy. Empathy comes from compassion (understanding and love) for the self.
I can now say this, with certainty and humility, that I want to surround myself with understanding and thus create a world where people understand each other. If you see me in you, and if I see you in me, perhaps the world will suffer less.
A few people whose judgement I trust have told me, "nobody can ever understand you in totality," which I have come to agree. In trying to be understood, I finally become able to understand myself. And that's where I connect self-compassion and empathy.
causality, narrative, dramatic logic
Causality is important in determining narrative. Different cultures produce different dramatic logic.
Narrative, in the dramatic sense, follows a structure.
personal memories (and the conflict with narrative)
Memories are images strung together. Words construct images — words come to me via memories. I am turning personal memories into images... And I want these images to make sense to others. I want others to understand, through these images, something about me, something about themselves.
Do narrative and memory come together in the form memoir? How to evoke the senses from memory without narrative? Is that impossible?